


first love

by emmaofmisthaven



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 09:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaofmisthaven/pseuds/emmaofmisthaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mako is arms deep into the Jaeger, monkey wrench in hand and smudges of grease on her face. For the first time since Tokyo, she’s smiling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	first love

Mako Mori is thirteen the first time she steps into the hangar of a Shatterdome, clad in a big fluffy PPCD coat – not quite used to the harsh Alaskan winters yet. The white fur of the hood falls in front of her eyes and she has to push it back in order to see the Jaeger in front of her. Her eyes go up and up and up until she’s finally able to see Gipsy Danger’s head. Mako’s mouth opens in awe at how big the robot actually is, at how small she feels next to it. It makes her dizzy as much as it makes her heart beat faster.

They’re opening her heart for some repairs and, of course, the Rangers, the infamous Becket brothers, are nowhere to be seen. She doesn’t mind. Far more interested in the workers here and there, putting the robot back together. She puts her hands deeps in the pockets of her coat, rocking back and forth on her hells, until someone notices her. It’s a young woman, blond hair in a ponytail and grease on her cheeks and hands. She smiles kindly at Mako, no doubt knowing who the little girl is – everybody knows who the Marshall’s daughter is.

“You okay there, kiddo?”

Mako doesn’t know what, or maybe how, to answer, still struggling with this new foreign language. She only nods, pushing back her hood once again. The woman doesn’t seem to mind, though, never losing her smile.

“You like robots?” Another nod. “Do you want to help?”

Mako hesitates, if only for a few seconds, before nodding vigorously once again.

It is only a matter of minutes before her coat is left on the ground and Mako is arms deep into the Jaeger, monkey wrench in hand and smudges of grease on her face. For the first time since Tokyo, she’s smiling.

 

.

 

(At some point, she’ll see the irony in it, how the first Jaeger she helps repair ultimately was the Jaeger she ends fighting the apocalypse in. There’s beauty in this full circle.)

 

.

 

She hates Lima with a burning passion. It’s too hot, too stuffy, and people only speak Spanish. She’s not comfortable enough with her English, so she doesn’t want to learn yet another language. So she simply doesn’t speak, alone and lonely. Sensei works all day long, only spending time with her in the evenings, and she busies herself with studying as much as possible. She draws plans and learns mathematics and reads all the books and essays there is on Jaegers and drifting.

But mostly she’s bored.

Thanks Hollywood for Sensei’s Netflix account.

She watches tons and tons of shows, animes, cartoons, just to keep herself busy. Mostly animes, if she’s honest with herself, because listening to Japanese feels just right, feels like home, reassuring. But, as she grows older, her tastes change, and she watches more and more American shows.

There’s this show, cowboys in space and no aliens, guns and starships and corrupted governments. But mostly there’s the mechanic, with grease under her nails and teddy bears on her pants, with fluffy pink dresses and easy smiles. She can talk to machines, understands them, is better than everyone at repairs.

Basically, Mako wants to be her. Mako watches the show and, for the first time in forever, sees herself in a character, sees what she could be, what she wants to be.

If she starts saying “shiny” once every three sentences, well, it’s only a side effect.

 

.

 

Sensei doesn’t want her to become a Ranger once she’s out of the Academy and it’s disappointing but not that big a surprise. She understands. And, as always, she busies herself with work. Climbing Jaegers to fix them, exploring their heart, changing their circuits. She longs for drifting, for finding someone to be compatible with, but knows better. And, to be honest, she’s still quite happy here, happy being useful. She loves the dirty under her nails, the grease on her knuckles, the sore in her muscles at the end of a day.

 

.

 

It doesn’t come as a surprise, not really, when Sensei asks her to take care of Gipsy Danger, to supervise her repairs. “Carte blanche”, he says, which makes her grin. Of course, she adds a hundred cool features – a sword, she adds a sword. Because it’s the most awesome thing ever. Because she wants her father to be proud of her, somehow, wherever he might be.

Gipsy Danger is better than new, beautiful and lethal. Mako’s masterpiece.

The same thing can’t be said of Raleigh Becket.

At least, that’s what she thinks at first.

 

.

 

The apocalypse doesn’t happen and Raleigh and she become heroes in a matter of hours. The few following months are a nightmare of interviews and meetings and journalists. It gives her a headache, always jet-lagged, dozing on Raleigh’s shoulder when he stands next to her. (He always stands next to her.)

They’re back in Hong Kong at some point, not knowing what to do with themselves, not knowing what’s next for them, for the entire Shatterdome. For the first time in years, Raleigh oversleeps, snoring like a baby. When he wakes up, he’s not even surprised to find Mako in the LOCCENT room with Tendo, tools in hands and grin on her lips.

Happy, at last.

 

.

 

They decide to settle in Australia, for some reason, house-hunting in Sydney. The real estate agent is having a field day, showing them the biggest, and of course most expensive, houses there is –they can afford anything so…

Mako is bored out of her mind after the fifth one, and Raleigh is about to be too even if he keeps his smile and good mood. They’re actually about to call it a day and go back to their hotel room when the agent promises them that “the next house will be the one, I swear, you see”.

Indeed it is.

The house is huge, the garden even bigger, with a pool and everything. They step into the entrance hall, white marble and minimalist furniture, and they just know. No need to look at each other, to share a glance. Mako’s heart misses a beat and she can feel Raleigh’s sigh, and they just know.

The living room is perfect, Raleigh squeaks at how functional the kitchen is, and flashes her a grin when they see the master bedroom. She rolls her eyes but grins wickedly at him nonetheless. Rooms after rooms of perfection, whispering in each other’s ear about colours and furniture like it’s nobody’s business.

The real agent estate says “nursery” and all she can hear is “personal workshop”.

 

.

_It’s too bloody early to be alive_. Raleigh’s fingers go for Mako’s waist, to pulls her against him and use her as his personal heater – she’s always warm and soft and she smells good. But his fingers find nothing if the cold sheets and empty bed, and he groans, not quite ready to open his eyes just yet. “Mako?” His voice is rasp and sleepy, with no answer from her. Another groan as he lets an arm fall on his eyes, knowing too well that he won’t be able to go back to sleep now.

(He can’t fall asleep without her by his side, which is more than problematic at times. It’s not his bloody fault if their minds need each other to sooth the nightmares. If they still need the ghost drifting after all those years.)

After longs minutes, he finally kicks the sheets, rubs his eyes. Not fully awake, he stills manages to find his way out of the bedroom and into the living room. “Mako?” Still no answer, but he can hear the little metallic sounds coming from the kitchen, which is enough for him to roll his eyes. Or al least tries to.

And here she is, sitting cross-legged on the cold tiled floor. Her black tank top fails to hide her belly, round with five months of pregnancy. She glances up at him and smiles, but goes back to what she’s doing in a matter of seconds.

Raleigh squints. “Is that… Hon, did you just kill our toaster?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” is all she replies. “And it was making weird sounds.”

There are bits of plastic and metal around her and she holds a screwdriver in a hand, what remains of the toaster in the other, tongue stuck between her teeth in obvious concentration. Raleigh isn’t exactly sure he’ll be able to eat breakfast this morning, just like he had to give up on coffee for three days in a row last week because “the machine wasn’t fast enough”. He isn’t exactly sure it’s the hormones or the boredom of staying home all days long – he knows better than to ask.

He simply sits in front of her, mirroring her position, leaning his elbows on his knees, and watches her. Tendo had said one day that Mako has two real loves, and Raleigh only came second. Her love for machines, for repairing them, had been in her for longer, and he knew he couldn’t compete with it, not really. He doesn’t mind, not when she sometime takes a break to rub her belly or smile at him.

He loves her for that, too.

He’ll buy a new toaster tomorrow.


End file.
